Memories Of The Future
by Phanstarlight
Summary: Sam Winchester has been having the same dream every night. The dream of a perfect man glinting in the sunlight. There's just one problem; he's never seen this man anywhere but inside his head. He doesn't know who he is or what he's like. Sam doesn't even know if this man really exists. But all that is about to change. Wincest AU in which they are not related.
1. I'll be your antidote

**Sadly, I don't own any of the rights to Supernatural. This story is** **based on and inspired by this YouTube video: watch?v=b1RStyoJ5AM. For the purpose of this AU let's just pretend that Sam can draw, okay? Enjoy!**

 _Perfect green eyes gleaming in the sunlight. Strong jaw and pink tinted lips curl into a gentle smile. His head tilts back slightly and his lips part to let out a silent laugh. If that laugh could ever be heard, it would sound like a hundred angels singing together in perfect harmony. Those grass green eyes gaze out and up to the sky. Then they turn to look at me. They're so beautiful I inhale sharply and-_

Sam jolted awake. His body bolted upright and hazel eyes swept his surroundings. No green eyes, no angelic laughs... it had only been a dream, again. His eyes scanned over the barely furnished room; only a small desk with a chair, an old armchair in the corner, a few of his own paintings hung along the walls, and the bed he was sitting in. Nothing had changed; it was still the same ordinary day life he had always had. 'Day life' because that was when everything was normal. But that all changed when Sam fell asleep; when Sam dreamed.

It had all started a few months back. In fact, it had started the exact same day he met Jess. Jessica Moore was a girl he had met the first day she had started work at the same local bar as him. Sam had been there for a few weeks more than her, so he was elected to show her the ropes (because no one likes teaching trainees no matter what business you're in). She was kind, funny, and had that sense of cherishing love about her. They had quickly become friends but, despite her regular moves on him, they had never become anything more. Sam liked the girl, he really did, but he just knew she wasn't the one for him. Sam was waiting; he had no idea for who or for how long but he would wait until the right person had come along. And that person had come along, in a sense. The dreams he kept having, they were always the same. They would show him a man; a wonderful, perfect man. He had bright green eyes and dark, sandy hair. Everything from the length of his eyelashes down to the colour of his boots was perfect. Sometimes the dreams would show him walking alone down a deserted road or looking up towards the sky; sometimes the man of dreams was just standing and looking straight back at Sam. But that was the problem. This man only appeared in his dreams; in his mind at night. Sam had no idea who he was, where he lived, what his name was, how he had come to be in his head... he didn't even know if he was real.

Sam's eyes scanned the room one final time before rolling his body out of bed and trudging towards the bathroom. It was still dark outside but he knew there was no chance of him getting back to sleep now. On his way, he paused to look at the blank piles of canvas staring at him before sighing and continuing forward. Sam loved painting; it was his true passion, the one thing he really wanted to make a job from. But recently, he had found he had absolutely zero inspiration. Well, that was a lie. He did have inspiration. But only from one thing; the same thing that had been his only motivation to paint in months- his mystery dream man. Every time he woke up from a dream, that would be what he would draw. His study was where Sam preferred to paint and the only thing in the study at the moment was canvas upon canvas of different angles and sizes of this unknown man. But it wasn't like he had an obsession... was it?

After Sam had showered and dressed, he dared a glance over at the clock on the coffee table. The numbers 6:39 glowed green in the low lighting of dawn. His sigh echoed slightly in the empty room as Sam shuffled back to his bedroom and flopped down on his back on the bed. He stared up at the ceiling, tracing patterns with his eyes. And slowly, Sam Winchester fell back into the same train thought he always did when he was alone.

Who was that man?

Would they ever meet?

Was he the one?

And the most prominent question of them all;

Was he even real?


	2. You'll be my cure

The bell on the door chimed and announced Sam's arrival to the bar.

"Hey Sam" Jess waved from the table she was cleaning. Sam said nothing but smiled at her in reply. He made his way over to the counter and unlocked the cashier. Silence washed over the room as Sam busied himself with bottles and Jess continued to clean tables. The silence wasn't exactly awkward... just very uncomfortable. They both knew what was coming. The same thing that happened every day.

"So..." Jess suddenly turned around after flipping the sign on the door from 'Closed' to 'Open'.

"Don't" Sam shook his head before Jess could say much else "Just don't"

"Oh come _on_ Sam!" The girl bounded over to him, her blonde curls bouncing as she moved "Tell me what it is. What's bothering you so much?"

Pretty much as soon as they met, Jess knew there was something different about Sam. At first she thought they shared some kind of connection, maybe even love (if love at first sight even existed). But when Sam constantly stopped every moved she made on him, she soon gave up with the idea. She had started off trying to ask simple questions, anything to get at least a tiny piece of information about him. Because in truth, despite the fact that they had known each other for a while Jess knew next to nothing about this person she had dared to call her 'friend'. There was such sadness behind his eyes. Something so deep that maybe even Sam himself didn't know existed. But every time she looked at him, she could see something within him was shredding him to pieces. All she wanted was to know what it was; she just wanted to help him.

"Fine, have it your way" Jess huffed after taking Sam's silence as yet another 'no'. The blonde slumped off into the back room leaving Sam alone once again. Just as he was about to call after her, the bell on the door rang again and Ellen walked in.

"You two arguing already?" she joked nodding towards the door Jess had stormed through that was still swinging slightly. Sam sighed but couldn't help the smile that spread across his face; Ellen always knew how to cheer him up. She was the owner of the bar which technically made her his boss. But Sam had never felt that Ellen was some kind of higher person than himself. She served drinks and cleaned tables just like he, Jess, and Jo (Ellen's daughter, she only worked on the weekends) did. Ellen wasn't really their boss but more just their friend who gave them jobs and paid them at the end of the month.

"You okay?" Ellen asked, setting her bags down on the counter and walking towards Sam.

"Yeah, I'm fine" Sam's reply only made Ellen raise her eyebrows.

"Really? Because I'm not gonna lie, you look awful."

"I haven't been sleeping much" Sam sighed, shaking his head and looking anywhere but at the woman in front of him.

"Take tomorrow off" Ellen suddenly said, picking up her bags and walking towards the door to the back rooms. Sam blinked at her in surprise.

"But what about-" Sam started but Ellen cut him off with a laugh.

"Jess and I can handle it on our own for a day. If anything happens, I could just call in Jo"

She then walked through the doors after Jess leaving Sam with nothing but silence, her signature smile in his mind's eye and a smile of his own spread across his face.

* * *

Sam strolled down the road as the street lamps began to flicker on. It had been a usual day at work; a few smashed beer bottles, a broken plate or two, and a bar fight that had ended up with one side of the room vs the other and Sam stuck right in the middle. So just an average day, really. But despite the heaviness of his eyelids and the aches in his back that he was sure would turn into bruises Sam couldn't stop a small smile flickering across his lips. Tomorrow he could lay in bed until 10 am, put on whatever clothes he wanted to, and go anywhere in town that was open. He knew that would never happen though. Sam knew he would end up doing what he did on every day off he got; stay in his apartment all day and paint the one thing he was able to. But still, it couldn't hurt to hope. His brain had been so caught up in itself that he found himself lying on his bed, shoes off, and staring up at the ceiling. He wasn't entirely sure how or when he had gotten there but he didn't question himself. Instead, he allowed his eyes to slid shut and his ears to listen to the night traffic flowing past his window. Sam knew he would eventually fall asleep and dream about his ever confusing mystery man but he could focus on the constant stream of life and reality below him... for now.


	3. Just for this moment

Sam's day started like any other day off he had. Dreams of his mystery man, waking up in a sweat, taking a shower to clear his head, then settling down in his study in front of a blank canvas to paint the only thing he could as the sun rose across the horizon. Everything was perfectly normal, until precisely 11:26 am. Suddenly Sam put his paint brush down, resting it on the edge of the table, before rising from his stool and leaving the room. He went to his front door while grabbing his cell phone as he walked past the coffee table and throwing on his shoes and coat. Then he opened the door and left the apartment. He wasn't sure why, but suddenly Sam had the urge to go outside. This was a very rare situation and Sam wasn't entirely sure what was happening but he allowed himself to go along with it. With absolutely no idea where his legs were taking him, Sam continued along the street, passing an uncountable number of shops and cars and strangers. As his body went into automatic, he allowed his mind into freedom. Well, freedom wasn't really the word for it since all he could ever think about (whether he wanted to or not) was his dream man. Sam had also noticed he had started calling him _his_ dream man but had managed to justify the thought with hardly a second to spare.

'He's in _my_ head, so he is _mine_.'

The bell on the inside of a door woke Sam from his wandering thoughts. He paused a moment to focus on where he had ended up. It was a diner. It was small, quaint and cosy; perfect for the get-away time that he desperately needed. His feet took him just that little bit further and slid him into one of the booths by the window with his back to the door. The place was almost empty so the waitress didn't take long to reach him. She smiled as she took down his simple order. Sam gazed out the window at the empty street; no one was walking past, no cars were driving along the road. He was so caught up in the rare moment of peace that it took him a further 2 minutes to see the scrap of paper that had appeared by his elbow with a hastily scribbled number on it. His eyes flicked up to the waitress who blushed when they made eye contact. Sam smiled politely -and slightly awkwardly- before turning back to face the window and taking a sip of the steaming coffee. The hot liquid slid down his throat causing his to murmur quietly at the welcome feeling of warmth in his body.

But Sam was quickly pulled out of the moment when he noticed that a car had suddenly appeared; parked outside the window, bumped up on the sidewalk. It was a muscle car, definitely American. It looked like some kind of Impala, not a particularly new edition although the condition it was in seemed to suggest otherwise. The dark hood gleamed slightly in the weak sunlight coming down from a parting in the clouded sky. Whoever owned that car obviously took great care of it. And just as he had expected a few seconds later the bell on the door rang behind him, announcing the arrival of the car owner. The single ring and lack of words in the air suggested that they had come alone. Sam's fingers curled back around the coffee cup but he did not lift it to his lips. His hand gripped tighter onto the ceramic as he resisted the strange urge to turn around and see the stranger who had also found their way to the small diner just as he himself had. It wasn't like he was expecting someone, or even that he was hoping for someone. Sam had never been too curious about strangers. In school, when someone walked in late to class everyone would turn in their seats to see who it was, but not Sam. He never found it as interesting as the others seemed to. Even while working at the bar, Sam had noticed that every time the bell rang on the door Jess would look up, not as though she were expecting someone but just because she wanted to see the face of the stranger who had walked in. Sam had always rolled his eyes at her, confused as to what she found so interesting about it. But now here he was, resisting the very thing he had laughed at others for in the past. He pushed his arms back and onto the table. He was fully prepared to finally turn around when suddenly he heard a voice.

"Do you mind?"

Sam flicked his head up to be greeted with the sight of a man standing in front of him on the opposite side of his table. His hands were signaling to the chair. Sam probably would have figured out the suggestion without having to think for one second but there was one, small thing standing in the way of that. The man who was standing in front of him was someone he recognised very well. It was him...

It was the man from his dreams.


	4. Somethings are better left unspoken

The man coughed slightly, indicating again to the chair opposite Sam. But Sam was still incapable of speaking so he simply nodded his head a little, still in shock about what he saw before him. The man sat down, either not noticing or completely ignoring Sam's bewildered stare. He had so many questions he needed to ask but no way to ask them. Sam didn't even know if this man had any knowledge that he had been the centre of his life for longer than he cared to think about. But if was definitely him, Sam was sure of that. Not only did it look like him but he just _seemed_ the same. He was exactly how Sam imagined he would be.

"You gonna drink that coffee before it gets cold?" Sam looked up at the man opposite him and almost burst out laughing, he even sounded the way he had imagined; weighted and rough but with a touch of something softer underneath. Finally, Sam regained control of his body and smiled slightly before taking another sip of his coffee and then looking back up.

"Sam," he said smiling.

"Dean" the man replied, smiling too. Dean, the name suited him. It was all so surreal. Sam had created so many elaborate scenes in his head about how he would meet this unsuspecting man. But never had it occurred to him that the one thing that had dominated his life could be changed completely so quickly. He had so many questions, so many things he needed to say but even if they had until the end of the universe there would not be enough time to say it all. So, instead Sam sat quietly drinking his almost cold coffee and staring out the window. But then something happened that Sam could only call a miracle.

"How's it going?"

Sam's head flicked up the see Dean still smiling at him across the table, hands curled around his own cup of coffee.

"What?" Sam blinked in shock.

"Hey, just trying to start a friendly conversation here" Dean replied in mock offence. Sam smiled and no matter how much he would deny it later, a small blush brushed across his cheeks.

"Oh the usual, stuck in a job to nowhere and a complete lack of inspiration to do something with the hundreds of blank canvases piling up in my study. How about you?" Sam smiled as Dean chuckled at his response before replying.

"Oh the usual, boyfriend left me to stay close to his family, Dad's disappeared without a trace, and I'm half way down the road to nowhere"

"S-Sorry about your boyfriend" Sam stuttered out awkwardly, but Dean didn't seem to mind.

"Nah, it's alright. It wasn't really working between us. His family is like super traditional and I guess they didn't approve of me or whatever. But I'm fine, I don't think he was the one anyway" Dean sighed before a silence fell over the two of them. Sam was about to break the silence, feeling the need to say something even though he had no idea what to say, but Dean beat him to it.

"So, what about you? Have you got anyone?"

A million things sped through Sams mind, his heart screaming at him so loud he was sure the whole world could hear it. There was so much for him to say, but with absolutely no way to say any of it. So, Sam simply sighed.

"Just looking for the right guy"

' _And I've finally found him'_ Sam desperately wanted to add.

Dean smiled. It was a half sympathetic and half mischievous smile that made the hair on the back of Sam's neck stand on edge. Before he knew what had happened, Sam found a slip of paper pressed into his hand. Uncurling it slightly, he saw that there was a number written on it. With his blush out in full force, Sam glanced a look back up at Dean once more. The other said nothing but smiled and winked at him before taking another sip of his coffee.

"Just a little token of friendship" Dean smirked at Sam's ever-growing smile. Without a word, Sam slipped the paper into his pocket. He was desperate to tell Dean everything, he wanted him to know just how much he meant to him even though they had only just officially met. But it was obvious that the man had no idea his image had been whirling in Sam's head for God knows how long now.

"Is everything okay?" Dean suddenly asked, causing Sam to snap back out of his thoughts. Without being able to find the words to speak, Sam nodded. But apparently, Dean wasn't convinced.

"You just seem kind of tense" slowly, Dean slid his hand across the table until it rested on top of Sam's hand. Sam looked up into bright green eyes and that was the moment he just could not take it anymore.

"You are the man I've been looking for months. We have never met before but images of you have been flying around my head for longer than I would care to think about"

Dean raised an eyebrow but his hand did not move, which Sam was quite surprised at.

"All I've been able to think about is you. I've painted your face over and over again. I didn't even think you were real! But here I am, sat in the diner in the middle of nowhere with you in front of me and I don't know what to do. But you must feel it too right?"

Dean's hand did slowly start to pull away but Sam was too caught up to notice.

"Come on! You must sense it. This place is empty but you still chose to sit with me. Why? You know why. We're being drawn together, we must be. This must be destiny or something"

"Okay, dude... I have no idea what the hell you're talking about"

"Don't you see? It's like we were born to be together or something!"

Dean stood up and backed away from Sam a little but Sam simply stood up with him.

"Seriously, I have no idea what you're talking about. How about you just let me leave now?"

"No! I can't let you leave. I just found you, I can't lose you again" Sam reached out but Dean shoved his hand away.

"Look just leave me alone!" Dean half shouted before pushing his way past Sam and out the door. Sam stood frozen, staring at the swinging door.

 _What have I done?..._


	5. On this cold and lonely night

He had finally met him. He had been face to face with him in some middle-of-nowhere diner. It was the perfect chance to get to know him, to find out what he's really like. And what did he go and do? Start blabbering about how he's been dreaming about him and scare him half to death. Now Dean probably thinks he's a creep... hell, he probably thinks he's insane. Maybe he is insane. Maybe this was all just some twisted reality Sam had built for himself to try and escape his inevitable dead end life. This was never meant to happen, it was never met to go this way. All he had to do was sit and ask the simple questions like 'how are you?' 'what do you do for a living?' 'family?' 'friends?'. But no, he just had to go and open his stupid mouth didn't he? Now look what he had done. He ruined everything in the blink of an eye and all that his life had been focused on these past few months slipped right by him. That man was all he had left and he just let his one chance run away back into the darkness. Past Dean, he had nothing; no family, no real friends... no life at all.

Sam had been so caught up in himself that he didn't realise that he had somehow gotten from that diner to his apartment and was now sat in his study, gazing out the window onto the street below. Slowly, he turned his head to stare at the blank canvas in front of him. Before he even knew what he was doing, he picked up a pencil and began to draw. His hand work as fast as it could, desperate to try and portray everything all his previous works could not; reality. He had seen this man right in front of him. The real thing had been right there in front of his very own eyes. But the more he drew, the more that his passion soon turned to anger as he looked upon his artwork and realised that no matter what he did or how he did it, he could never quite capture the true beauty of this magnificent man. He sighed and threw the pencil down in defeat. He cast a fleeting glance out the window to see the landscape had grown dark under the night sky. Silently, he stood and made his way to the bedroom. But just as he was undressing, a small slip of paper fell to the floor. Confused, Sam picked it up. After a moment, he realised it was the piece of paper Dean had given him with what Sam assumed was his number on it. A sudden anger burst within him and he crumpled the paper in his hand before throwing it a little too forcefully at the bin. Another sigh escaped his lips and he collapsed down onto the bed. He screwed his eyes shut and quickly he fell into a deep sleep.

And for the first time in months, his sleep was completely dreamless.


	6. I know you need this too

A week had passed since Sam's encounter with Dean and things were going from bad to worse. He could hardly sleep, which made him constantly late for work. Jess had begun to worry about him but after she tried to ask what was wrong, Sam shouted at her- something he now deeply regretted doing- and since then the two of them had not spoken. Ellen had become so worried for him that she pretty much threatened to fire him if he didn't go home and get some rest. So, reluctantly he headed home. Once he was finally in the door, he passed his study like it wasn't even there and lay face down on his bed. His eyes scanned over the limited view he had of his room from this position but stopped when they locked onto a half screwed up piece of paper lying on the floor next to his bin. Slowly Sam drew his body back up off the bed, walked over to the bin, and picked up the piece of paper. His eyes scanned over it a few times before he registered what it was. His breath hitched in his throat when he realised it was the slip of paper Dean had given him a week ago. Suddenly an idea hit him and Sam quickly brushed it aside. But as he toyed with the paper a little longer, the idea crept back up on him. Quickly he pulled his phone out of his pocket, dialed the number on the paper, and pressed call. After one ring Sam panicked and cancelled the call. He stared at the paper a little longer before taking a breath and trying again. The phone rang three times before anyone picked up.

"Hello?" the unmistakable sound of Dean's voice echoed down the line and Sam was momentarily breathless.

"Um... hey Dean it's me, Sam. Look I'm so sorry about what happened last week. Is there any chance I could start over?" Sam's voice was overflowing with nerves but he was too pent up on Dean's reaction to notice the state of his own voice. Much to Sam's both surprise and relief, all Dean did was laugh.

"Sure man. I've been thinking about what happened and I feel like my reaction would have been justified if it was anyone else. But you... you seem different"

Sam's heart swelled in his chest and despite his efforts, a small smile wound its way along his lips.

"Hey, do you maybe want to come over?" Sam had no idea where this sudden burst of confidence had come from, but he was determined to not let it go to waste.

"Sounds awesome"

So Sam gave Dean his address then spent the next 10 minutes frantically running around trying to make his apartment look at least vaguely decent. Just as Sam locked the door to his study (he didn't want Dean to go in there, not yet) the doorbell rang. Sam rushed over, took a moment to calm himself, and then opened the door with a smile.

"Hey" Dean returned Sam's smile before stepping inside. His gaze instantly fell to the paintings hung along the walls.

"Are these yours?" Dean almost whispered, his voice filled with an unusually undisguised wonder. Sam mumbled something about coffee and shuffled off to the kitchen, a bright blush forming on his cheeks. Dean followed him with a smile, his eyes scanning every picture he walked passed. Silently, Sam made the coffees and hurried over to the couch. Dean flopped down next to him a little closer than Sam expected, not that he was complaining at all.

"Are these paintings really all yours?" Dean asked again, his eyes fixed on the picture of an ocean landscape that hung next to the door.

"Yeah" Sam muttered and looked away.

"Dude, you could be a freaking millionaire if you sold this kind of stuff" Dean's word slowly got quieter as he suddenly stood and walked over to the painting that had caught his attention. It was the ocean, but something about it seemed almost mystical to Dean. The colours flowed perfectly together so you couldn't tell where one ended and the other began and the rays of light gleamed on the surface as though he really was staring into the depths of the sea.

"Do you really think they're that good?" Sam questioned cautiously, stepping up beside Dean whose attention was still solely on the painting.

"Are you kidding me? They're amazing"

Sam couldn't find the words to reply, so he continued blushing and nervously bit his lip in response. His attention stayed with his artwork for a while but soon his eyes slid to focus on the face of the man next to him. Dean's eyes were still transfixed by the painting. Slowly, a smile spread along Sam's lips as he scanned Dean's face. It was exactly how he had seen it in his head but something about him being right there next to him made every feature just that little bit more beautiful. His eyes were greener, his hair was softer, his lips were pinker... something about the real thing was so much more perfect than any dream or painting could portray. Dean suddenly turned to look at him and Sam's heart skipped a beat. A small smile spread across Dean's face and he looked directly into Sam's eyes. Before Sam knew what was happening, he found himself staring right back. Subconsciously they shifted closer to each other, Dean tentatively placing his hand in Sam's. It was like time had stopped. The two of them stood there, looking at one another until Sam began to slowly move closer. His cheeks burst with heat as he felt Dean's breath brush against his lips. Without even thinking about it, he allowed his eyes to flutter closed and after what seemed like forever... Dean closed the gap between them and pushed their lips together.


	7. Some rules are made to be broken

**Warning: this chapter contains smut! It's quite soft and fluffy but I thought I should tell you just in case smut isn't your cup of tea :)**

Their lips slowly parted and Sam's eyes flickered up to meet Dean's. Dean stared at him in complete awe for a moment before grabbing Sam's face and pushing their lips back together. This kiss was more desperate than the first. It was as though everything had suddenly fallen into place in their heads. Sam realised that this really was what he wanted; he didn't want anyone else, only the man in his arms right now. And Dean saw that, for a reason he did not want to think all that deeply about in fear of unravelling its mysteries, Sam was the one he belonged with. They had hardly met but Dean felt as though he had known him all his life.

Without even thinking about it, Sam slowly shuffled them towards his bedroom. After almost falling through the door they collapsed down together on the bed. Their lips moved in perfect sync, moulding together. As Sam's eyes fluttered closed, Dean gently held his face with his hands. He rolled Sam over until he was straddling him, their mouths still pressed together. Carefully Sam reached between them, undid Dean's belt and slid his hands up the other man's back. The feeling of cool hands sent shivers down Dean's spine as his own hands found themselves tangled in Sam's soft hair. He tugged gently and a small moan escaped Sam's lips, causing Dean to smile into the kiss. Sam's hand slipped back around to Dean's torso and began unbuttoning his shirt, his movements becoming more desperate. Once his shirt was open Dean gently shrugged it off his shoulders before opening up Sam's shirt as the younger man's hands fluttered down his back until they finally rested on Dean's hips, gently tugging at the hem of his jeans before unbuttoning them and pulling them down Dean's legs.

Dean's fingers traced the muscles on Sam's chest as his lips trailed kisses down his neck, causing Sam to gasp slightly. Dean made his way further down Sam's body until his breath ghosted his hips. His eyes flickered up to meet Sam's before smirking to himself and swiftly pulling his jeans from his legs and discarding them to the floor. He kept eye contact as his fingers grazed the top of Sam's boxers for a moment before pulling them off too. Dean's eyes scanned over Sam's body, that smirk never once leaving his lips. Sam stared at him in a half daze for a few moments before reaching a hand over to the bedside drawer pulling out a bottle of Vaseline. Dean took the bottle and squeezed some onto his fingers. He lent down and kissed Sam softly before slowly slipping his fingers inside him, coiling them slightly. Sam's eyes widened as he stared up into Dean's perfect eyes and a moan fell from his lips. Once Dean felt Sam was comfortable and relaxed he removed his fingers, slipped his own boxers off and gently replaced them with his now almost painful erection. Sam's fingers gripped onto the sheets as Dean thrust inside him, their eyes never once breaking contact. Dean brushed his hands across Sam's chest and Sam's arms wound around Dean waist. The younger man's hips pushed up slightly with every one of Dean's thrusts, making a low moan burst from Dean's mouth and his fingers dig into Sam's chest. He felt himself coming close as he stared down at Sam's face which held an expression that could only be described as pure love. The sight of Sam's almost innocent eyes was what finally pulled Dean over the edge. They released together in unison with one final shout of each other's names.

After a moment, Dean gently rolled himself off Sam and lay on his back next to him. For a while, nothing was heard apart from the sounds of both men breathing heavily. But eventually Sam broke the silence, not wishing for the amazing situation he was in to turn awkward.

"Wow" he breathed out, an unbreakable smile sitting on his lips as he turned his head to look at Dean. The other man said nothing but as his head turned and his eyes met Sam's, everything stopped. There it was… the very image which Sam had seen of Dean in his first dream; Dean's face looking towards him, his lips smiling gently, and his beautiful green eyes glistening slightly in the rays of sun seeping through the window as it disappeared under the horizon. His skin glistening slightly in a thin layer of sweat and his body was bathed in a golden glow. Slowly, Sam leant forward and pressed their lips together. It said everything Sam knew he would never be able to find the words to explain; thank you, we belong together, this is how it's meant to be, I know you feel this too. As Sam's eyes gently drifted shut with his back pressed against Dean's chest, the two men slipped into sleep. The 'I love you' never spoken, but most definitely hanging in the air.


	8. Let me be the one you use

As soon as Sam awoke, he felt something was different. The bed was warmer than usual and a strange sense of calm washed over the room. Slowly, he opened his eyes and he almost fell out of bed in shock at what he saw. Dean was facing him, still fast asleep. His hair glowed gently in the early morning light and his face seemed so peaceful and untouched by the problems of everyday life. Sam couldn't believe it; Dean was really here, it wasn't a dream anymore. He tentatively reached out a hand and traced Dean's jawline with his finger. Suddenly, Sam had an idea and before he was really aware of his own movements, he was out of bed. Quickly he pulled on some slacks and t-shirt before grabbing some paper and a few pencils from his study. Quietly, he re-entered the bedroom and was relieved the find that Dean was still asleep. He perched himself on his armchair and instantly set the pencil to paper. His hand flew with unusual speed as it sketched out the masterpiece in front of him. The way the light seeped through his hair, the shadows on his jawline, the blissful expression on his face- Sam captured it all.

"Morning Sleepyhead" Sam teased gently when Dean finally gave a low groan and opened his eyes. He stared at the wall with a completely blank expression and for a moment Sam panicked that Dean thought the previous night had been a mistake. But that thought was soon shattered by the smile that spread along Dean's lips as their eyes met.

"What have you been up to?" Dean questioned, his voice a little lower than usual from sleep.

"Oh, it's nothing really" Sam trailed off but suddenly Dean had somehow managed to reach over and pull the book from Sam's hand. Dean ignored his protests and opened up the book. Sam fell silent as his eyes stayed fixed on Dean's face.

"This is... amazing" Dean breathed out and Sam couldn't believe his ears.

"You really think so?"

"Yeah. There's just one problem, though"

"What is it? Is in the shading? I know it's quite heavy but I really wanted to get the contrast between-"

"This man you've drawn is too perfect to be me" Dean silenced Sam's rambling. He finally looked back up at him and their eyes locked together.

"I just drew what I saw" Sam barely whispered, not moving his eyes from Dean's. Slowly, Dean placed the book down behind him before reaching his hand up and pulling Sam's face into a soft kiss.

That was the kiss that sealed everything. Nothing happened instantly, but gradually Sam and Dean grew closer and closer until a completely unbreakable bond was formed. Even when the major events began to occur like Dean moving in with Sam and Sam quitting his job to become a full time painter, no one questioned it. For these events had been planned from the very start. Everything had fallen perfectly into place and the world around them let out a sigh at it admired the work it had been building for centuries. They were destined to be together from the very beginning and nothing would ever tear them apart.


End file.
